


Smoke

by HistoireEternelle



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Cigar, Cigar!porn, F/M, Gutterbugs, Le Classy Caniveau, Surprise Blowjob, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoireEternelle/pseuds/HistoireEternelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompted: Can someone write a dirty scene with Red/Liz/one of his cigars?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been written for the Promptathon (or Porntathon as I like to call it) held by Le Classy Caniveau on Tumblr.  
> Don't hesitate to stop by and send us a prompt if you feel like it.
> 
> Thank you so much MinP1072 for your help!

Liz had walked into Red’s office on a whim. He hadn’t forbidden her to enter that room, but after three days alone in the safe house — that looked more like Red’s country house than another borrowed property — the office was the only room she wasn’t already bored of. The house was nice, built entirely out of logs, furnished with dark wooden furniture, it would have been a cabin if it wasn’t for the size. The house was huge, lost in the middle of nowhere-Minnesota, centenarian trees in the front, hiding it from the dirt trail of a road that service it, and opening on a clear blue lake on the back. Liz would have loved to spend her days exploring the forest or diving into the crystal-clear water and bathing under the waterfall flowing into the lake, but of course, Red had chosen December to bring her there. 

And he had left.

He had brought her there to keep her safe and, after only two days, he had left her on her own, saying he had things to take care of that couldn’t wait. And it was almost Christmas!

The office was similar to the rest of the house, the light wood panels of the walls contrasting with the dark desk she was now facing. Not a paper in sight, she observed. Red had been as thorough with this place as he always was. Liz trailed her fingers along the smooth surface of the desktop, pondering the possibility of sitting on the huge armchair behind the desk. She took a deep breath, trying to find Red’s scent in the atmosphere of the room — his scent had permeated the whole house — but then something else caught her attention.

On the other side of the room stood an immense fireplace. Two dark leather armchairs were sitting in front of the hearth; a small round mahogany table between them held a light wooden box, a bottle of Brandy, and two glasses. Liz took a step forward, her fingers leaving the desk, and worried her lower lip. This was Red’s place. She could see it in the pristine condition of the room when some others had been covered in dust. She could see it in the glasses and alcohol. This was his sanctuary and she felt like an intruder.

She had to leave.

But she couldn’t. As though her body wasn’t hers anymore, she saw herself walk to the fireplace and sit on the left armchair. The one the box was the closest to. No. Not a box. A humidor. This was where Red kept his cigars. Liz traced the complex design carved on the top with a fingertip before pushing slowly the lid open. The heavy scent of tobacco hit her nose and she closed her eyes, smiling when she realized that it was one of the fragrances that made Red’s scent unique.  

Opening her eyes, she looked down into the box and shook her head.

“Oh, Red,” she said under her breath.

She had never cared for tobacco, but she knew enough to recognize a Cuban cigar when she saw one. And the humidor was full of them. That box was worth thousands of dollars. Extending her hand, Liz took out a cigar and brought it to her nose; behind her closed eyelids, she saw the way Red’s tongue would slip between his parted lips, touching the cap for a second before he would close his lips around the cigar. She had been fascinated by the sensuality of that tongue flashing when she didn’t expect it, and revolted by the fire she had felt running through her body. Her father had died of lung cancer and she was aroused by watching a man smoke.

She was still lost in her thoughts when she felt a shift in the air, the small hairs at the nape of her neck standing on end. Of course he had to choose that moment to come back. Still holding the cigar in hand, she turned her torso toward the door, not moving from her seat and looked at him.

Shoulder leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed on his chest, she saw that he had discarded his jacket and tie and his vest was unbuttoned, exposing his white shirt, open at the collar. Taking in his frame, she let her eyes trace his broad shoulders, the open collar of his shirt showing salt-and-pepper chest hair, his pants hugging his body in all the right places, trailing down his legs to find his sock feet.  

Judging by the small smile on his lips and the light shining in his eyes, he hadn’t missed a moment of her ogling. Liz felt heat rise up her neck. Meeting his eyes had been a mistake; now that he had caught her stare, she couldn’t avert her eyes. She was frozen on the spot, the cigar still in her hand, the humidor still open on the table. Unable to move, she watched him take a step, then another, in her direction and her breath caught in her chest. The intensity of his stare was something she had never really seen in him. She had had glimpses of it when he had thought she wasn’t watching, but never like this.

She raised her head when he stood in front of her. His crotch was a breath away from her hand holding the cigar. She could feel the heat radiating from his body and saw his pupils dilate. Was he angry? Disappointed in her? She didn’t know. He inched forward and suddenly, she felt him against her hand. He wasn’t angry or disappointed. He was aroused. She could feel his cock already half-hard against the back of her hand.

From the corner of her eye, Liz saw his hand move and, slowly, he slid the cigar out of her grip, leaving her with two choices. And judging by his crooked eyebrow and the tilt of his head, Red was perfectly aware of that. Now that her hand was free, she could either lay it down on the armrest or flip it and cup him through his pants. He was holding his breath, she realized, seeing his chest still its perpetual movement and his heart beating furiously at the pulse point at the side of his neck.

They both let their breath out when the palm of her hand settled on the tense material of his pants. Eyes never leaving his face, she saw his jaw clench and heard the hitch in his breath when she closed her fingers around his cock. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. He was waiting for her to take the lead. He would accept her decision, no matter what, she realized. She moved her hand an inch upward, as an experiment, and he closed his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. With his eyes closed, Liz felt she could move again. Her eyes reluctantly leaving his face, she fixed them on his belt. After a second of hesitation, she uncurled her fingers and, with her other hand joining to help, she unbuckled his belt and popped the button of his pants open before sliding his fly down. His pants slid down his hips, pooling around his ankles, and Liz’s fingertip traced the outline of his erection through his black boxers.

She leaned forward, her lips touching the burning heat hidden under the fabric and his hips bucked involuntarily. Her smile half-hidden by the tails of his shirt hanging around her, she did it again, her lips lingering just a moment longer, and she heard him sigh. She caught the movement of Red’s hand in her peripheral vision and shivered when, instead of burying it in her hair as she thought he would, he used his fingertips to push her hair backward, baring her face to his view. She looked up at him and smiled shyly. He returned her smile in bewilderment.

Slowly, their eyes locked; she inched his boxers down, her mouth closing on the exposed skin. Out of the corner of her eye, Liz saw his hand fist around the cigar he was still holding, crushing it, pieces of tobacco leaves crumbling from his fingers. She took the head of his cock in her mouth, her lips closing around the ridge, and sucked. She heard the soft cry that left Red’s lips and smiled, her teeth grazing his heated skin. They weren’t touching, their only link, her lips on him, but she could feel how tensed he was. The air surrounding them crackling with electricity.

Pushing his boxers down his thighs, she let him slide deeper into her mouth, engulfing him in her wet heat as much as she could, her tongue flat on the underside of his shaft. He was panting now, his breath the only sound in the room. Giving up all pretence, Liz closed her fingers around the base of his cock, her other hand sneaking under his shirt, caressing his lower belly; she moaned, the sound muffled by his length, when Red’s hips jerked. She could feel him tremble under her touch, his muscles moving in rhythm with her mouth. He was close, she could feel it in the way he was holding himself, trying to stay still while her mouth worked him in earnest.

He groaned when she let his cock slip almost all the way out of her mouth, her lips once again around the head, her tongue teasing the hole she found there while her hand moved up and down along his length. And suddenly, she felt it. The first drops of cum hitting her tongue just before he climaxed in her mouth in long, hot spurts. He slipped from Liz’s mouth when he took a step back, bracing himself against the back of the other leather armchair. A small, smug smile on her lips, Liz leaned forward and kissed the tip of his softening cock, startling him.

\---

Red tried to focus his half-hooded eyes on Liz, still not believing what just happened. He had known she would be angered by his disappearance, but his business had taken longer than he expected, and he had needed to stop in Minneapolis to find her a Christmas present. Then, halfway home, the snow had turned the roads impassable. He would have been stuck in his car if it hadn’t been for the old couple who found him on the side of the road and let him spend the night in their guest room.

He had been able to get back to his car in the late afternoon and, once home, had found the house quiet and still. Thinking she was in the library or her room, Red had gone to his room, showered, and changed into clean clothes before going to look for Lizzie. After visiting those two rooms and not finding any trace of her, he had called out, fearing Lizzie might have wanted to explore their surroundings and found herself cut from the house by the heavy snowfall the day before. He had been on his way to get warmer clothes when he had spotted the door of his office standing ajar. On tiptoe, he had closed the distance and pushed the door open silently, a soft smile spreading on his lips when he saw her. Leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, he watched her take a cigar from the humidor and bring it to her nose to smell it, her eyes closing when the smell of tobacco hit her.

From the moment she had turned around to look at him, his memories were blurred. The mingling sensations of heat and wetness; the soft moans she had made, muffled by his cock deep in her mouth.

She was beautiful. And she had just sucked him off. He still couldn’t quite believe it, but his pants still around his ankles and his boxers on his thighs were proof enough of what just happened. And she was still looking at him. His Lizzie was looking at him with eyes dark with desire. The sound of the crushed cigar hitting the floor when he opened his fingers felt like an electroshock. In a swift movement, he grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled them up, along with his boxers. He saw her flinch at his gesture and knew instantly what she was about to say. And he would hear none of it.

“I’m so…”

His lips crashing on Lizzie’s silenced her, his tongue invading her mouth when she gasped in surprise. He could taste himself on her tongue, arousal once again burning in his veins. She had sucked his cock until he came into her mouth. His lips pushing her to lean against the back of the armchair she was still sitting in, he snuck between the seat and the table to stand before her.  When the need of air forced them break the kiss, he fell to his knees, looking up, waiting for her consent to keep going. His hands on the seat, on either side of her thighs, not touching her, he could still feel her tremble.

When she finally nodded, Red’s hands slid up her thighs, caressing her through the fabric of her jeans. He kissed her knee tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers as he inched his fingers up, reaching for the button at the waistband of her pants and popping it open before slowly sliding the fly down, mirroring her previous actions. He leaned forward, finally breaking eye contact, and pressed a kiss to the soft black cotton of her underwear. His nose filled with the scent of her arousal, making him growl deep in his throat.  

His hands sneaking under her hoodie, Red brushed her sides before moving down the curve of her back to slide under her buttocks, urging her to lift her hips. He hooked his fingers on the waistband of Liz’s pants and pulled them down slowly, kissing her hip, then her thigh, his lips tracing a line of fire on her skin. He put the jeans down on the side, his hands sneaking between her closed knees to push them apart when she sat back on the armchair. Slowly, he made his way up along her leg, his nose nuzzling at her skin, feeling goosebumps spread on her skin.

Red nipped lightly at the tender skin her inner thigh, filling his nose with her scent when she wriggled under his ministrations. His hands closed on her hips and he pulled, her buttocks sliding on the leather, his body forcing her to open her legs even further. Red traced soothing circles on her hips with his thumbs to keep her in place when his tongue darted out of his mouth, licking at the darker spot on her underwear where her arousal had wet the fabric.

Her hand cradling the back of his head gave him her blessing to continue and, one hand leaving her hip, he pushed the crotch of her panties aside, baring her wet and swollen lower lips to his stare. He moaned, echoing the sound she made, when his tongue traced the heated skin, not yet breaching that last barrier.

Liz whimpered when his hot breath left her and his hand let the fabric of her panties slide back in place. He looked up at her, a small, reassuring smile on his lips, before turning his eyes to the humidor still open on the table beside them. She had seemed to love the scent of his cigars. Taking one out, he brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes closed. He could feel her eyes on him, almost see the frown of her eyebrows. Tension seeped from every pore of her skin, the scent of her arousal heavy in the atmosphere of the room.

Opening his eyes, he fixed them on hers, touching the cigar to his lips, his tongue brushing the cap to wet it slightly before once again pushing her underwear aside. He traced her lips with the head of the cigar, feeling her shudder at the sensation, his body between her legs preventing her from closing them up.  

“Shh, trust me,” he breathed, breaching the last barrier with the cigar.

She jerked when he brushed her clit in a feathery caress. Slowly, he rounded the tight bundle of nerves, never touching it directly, with the cigar. She was so wet. It took every ounce of self control in him not to throw the cigar away and fuck her here and now in that chair. But he had had his pleasure, and now it was time to reciprocate — they would have time for more later.

He pulled her even closer to the edge of the seat, sliding a shoulder under her leg, he took the cigar south, teasing her entrance while his mouth closed over her clit. He had to shut his eyes, feeling dizzy at the taste of her that flooded his mouth. He felt Liz’s nails dig into his scalp and heard the cry that left her throat when he flicked his tongue. She was trembling, her back arching with every touch of his tongue, her hand clasped the armrest so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“Red!” she cried out when the cigar inched forward.

He chuckled at her response, knowing that the vibrations of his voice on her clit would make her wild. And he wasn’t mistaken. Liz’s hips jerked against his mouth and he slid the cigar deeper into her body. He knew that, with the wetness of her core, the cigar wouldn’t last, so he slid his index finger in along with the smoke.

Fucking her with cigar and finger, his tongue moved frantically on her clit.

The heel of her foot slipped against the polished hardwood floor when she tried to find some purchase under the assault of his tongue, the muscles of the leg on his shoulder tensing. She was close, he could hear it in her breath, feel it in the way her body responded. He added his teeth to her clit and she tensed. Her cries music to his ears, he felt her inner muscles grip his finger and the cigar. He kept moving until her hand released its grip on his head; throwing the cigar away, his tongue lapped at her, reveling in the taste of her climax.

With a last kiss on her swollen sex, he let her underwear slide back in place and sat on his haunches, her leg slipping to the floor. Her juices glistening on his chin, he waited until her eyes focused back on him before bringing his finger to his mouth and sucking it clean.

She whimpered deep in her throat and, with a strength he didn’t think she still possessed, she pushed herself out of the armchair and, kneeling in front of him, crushed her lips to his. His arms closed round her, plastering her body to him; with his fingers buried in her hair, he kissed her back.

Everything had changed; they’d have to adjust and learn how to be together. But they had time. They had time for everything now.


End file.
